Simbelmyne
by Rosa Cotton
Summary: An afternoon talk between Sam and Rosie touches on new blooms in a garden overeager, spying lasses and a “secret” shared but not understood.


Disclaimer: _The Lord of the Rings_, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate.

Author's Note: A new Sam/Rosie story. It is bookverse. Feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Simbelmyne

They were there again – those girls, spying on Sam as he worked on the flowerbeds in front of Bag End, from behind some nearby bushes. Rosie sighed in annoyance. She did not know any of them personally, but she had seen them several times the last few weeks following Sam around and actually flirting with him once or twice. Rosie shook her head.

Ever since the Scoring of the Shire, and Sam had restored it to its former glory when he had gone through the Shire and planted seeds that grew into marvelous new, tall trees, bright flowers, fresh green grass, and shrubs, he had become something of a hero. He had received – along with the other three Travelers – a medal of honor from the Mayor. He was invited to dine with the families of the highest society and attend their parties. It seemed, whenever, wherever one saw him, he had at least one lass at his elbow, hoping to gain his attention. Rosie had lost count how many times she had been sought out by practically every girl in Hobbiton, each one hoping Rosie could reveal ways for her to get to Sam's heart, since it was known Rosie was good friends with him. And it was driving her crazy. If she was asked just one more time what Sam's favorite preserve was, she would scream.

Tossing her head slightly, Rosie turned her eyes to the road before her, intending to walk right by the hidden lasses and Sam, pretending not to notice them. Better to play it safe. She had heard a rumor just the other day about her hoping to make a catch of Sam for herself. _The nerve!_ Just recalling the conversation she overheard caused Rosie to flush with anger. _To make such an assumption!_ _I would never do such a thing. Sam does not think of me that way, no matter how much I wish –_

"Rosie!"

Her train of thought interrupted, the said name owner whipped her head in surprise to her left to discover Sam had paused in his work and was looking at her with a small pleasant, uncertain smile. Rosie slowly gave him an answering smile, causing his to brighten, and waved. At his beckoning hand, she paused only a moment before stepping off the road to stride over to him.

"Hello, Sam," she greeted him, casting a nervous glance in the hidden lasses' direction before returning her eyes to the hobbit.

"Afternoon, Rosie," he replied then fell silent, a faint blush creeping up his neck. Clearing his throat, he continued. "Please thank your ma for the pies and preserves. My gaffer appreciated them."

"I will let her know," Rosie nodded, pleased. Her eyes fell on the flowerbeds. Primroses, tiger lilies, snapdragons, lilacs, and cornflowers had bloomed; and their happy faces were turned to the bright sun. A smile of delight came over Rosie's face as she gazed at the flowers and clapped her hands in delight. "They have opened up! They are lovely, Sam," she praised.

Sam blushed anew and then motioned to a patch of small white flowers that had sprouted up in front of the beds. Rosie's brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before she remembered.

"Are those the seeds I accidentally spilled when I offered to help you when you began spring planting?" she asked, her eyes widening.

Sam nodded. "They are called simbelmyne," he said.

Rosie seated herself beside him to examine the flowers closer, to touch their delicate petals, and to breathe in their perfumed fragrance. A blissful expression was on her face when she lifted her head. "They have not grown in the Shire before," she mused.

"No," Sam agreed.

"I had feared I had wasted your seeds when I dropped them," she recalled. "The ground was still quite muddy from the rainstorm."

"I would not say the seeds were wasted now," Sam laughed merrily.

"Indeed not." She reached out to touch another blossom. "They are lovely."

"Aye," Sam said quietly, watching Rosie. Struck with an idea, he gently plucked one of simbelmyne and presented it to her. "A gift for my little garden helper," he stated.

Not quite able to meet his eyes, Rosie took the flower carefully from him. "Your little helper?" she repeated. "I am still seen as little to Tom; do you still think of me as little?" she asked with a laugh.

Sam wordlessly shook his head and watched her place the flower behind her ear. His smile of approval was not noticed.

Rosie's eyes were drawn towards certain bushes when she thought she heard muffled voices. Sighing slightly, she was surprised to see Sam glancing in the same direction, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"They are spying again." He said it more as a statement than a question before he busied himself with pulling up the weeds that were nestled among the flowers.

"You noticed!" Rosie exclaimed loudly and then clamped a hand over her mouth.

"It is hard not to notice," Sam said, his shoulders shaking with sustained laughter.

Starting to feel amused by the situation herself, Rosie said, "You have no idea how many times they and other girls have come to me for advice regarding you."

"Really?" Sam asked with deep interest, glancing at her before returning his eyes to his work.

"'Could you introduce me to Mr. Gamgee?' 'What is Samwise's favorite preserve?' 'Will I scare him away if I flirt openly with him?' 'Does he prefer to be invited over for tea or supper?' 'When does he work on the gardens of Bag End?' 'What is his favorite color?'" Rosie repeated some of the many questions she had been asked in a high-pitched voice, with a bright smile on her face which then collapsed into an expression of annoyance.

Sam threw his head back and laughed. "Ah, poor Rosie! You also suffer from them, I see."

Rosie nodded firmly. "Perhaps you should humor them so that we can both have some peace."

"And how should I do that?" he asked, still chuckling.

"By deciding which one has won your heart," she explained, her face coloring.

Sam gazed at her in shocked silence for a moment. "Which one has won my heart…" he said softly. He placed the weeds he held in his hand in the pile that had formed. He wiped his hands on his trousers and then reclined himself on the ground, leaning on his elbows.

"That is the reason I had been told when I asked them why they are so eager to get your attention," Rosie added in a hurried voice, wringing her hands nervously.

"Hmm." Sam looked at her thoughtfully. "The girl who has won my heart…"

"Yes. The one you…love."

Sam nodded slowly. "Well…"

"She should be someone you know," Rosie suggested, cutting him off. "And pretty, she should be pretty. Pa keeps reminding my brothers it is important for them to have a wife who can cook and sew. And, and…" She frowned, thinking. When she raised her gaze to Sam, she discovered him watching her strangely. She blinked. "I…I interrupted you, did I not? I am sorry. What were you going to say?"

Sam took a moment to gather his thoughts, playing with some blades of grass. "I agree with everything you said. But other qualities that I believe important are that she is nice, helpful, encouraging. It would be wonderful if she gets along with Frodo and Merry and Pippin. She should be willing to get her hands dirty in the garden." He gazed at Rosie with unusual intensity and finished with, "She should be one who loves Samwise Gamgee and not just Samwise the Brave."

"Yes," Rosie breathed, slightly unnerved by Sam's eyes which seemed to look right through her and by the subject they were discussing. She coughed in an attempt to break the spell. "I could not agree more." She swallowed hard. "So," she forced a smile, "who do you believe is the lucky lass?" she asked. Not giving him a chance to answer, she suggested, "Pansy Goodbody? Nibs said you were once childhood sweethearts."

"I have not seen her in years," Sam shook his head, embarrassed.

"Well, Fatty's sister, Estella, is a nice girl. Or there's Peony Brandybuck…though she is a little plump. You have seen Angelica Baggins quite a bit; you had several dinner invitations from her, did you not?"

"Well, yes, but I do not know if she would look down on my trade as a gardener," Sam objected.

Rosie then named each and every lass she could think of that might be a good match for Sam. "Myrtle Burrows! Linda Bracegirdle! Camellia Boffin! Pervinca Took! Posie Foxburr!" And it went on and on.

And Sam would reply with each new name, "No, she is not the one."

Finally, Rosie grew silent, having named each girl she could think of. At having no success, she began to wonder if perhaps Sam was not in love at all.

"None of them is the lucky lass, I'm afraid," Sam sighed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Rosie said.

"Whatever for? You named some possible girls, and it is not just any of them."

"True. There are many other lasses in the entire Shire to consider," Rosie realized.

"I do not need to consider any other lasses," Sam said quietly.

Rosie at last looked at him in confusion.

"I dare say I chose the lass who won my heart when I was eighteen."

"What!" the word escaped as a whisper from Rosie's lips. "You have been in love for years!" She gaped.

"Yes."

Rosie ran a hand through her curls, causing them to tangle. "You never told me," she said, hurt.

"Could I have?" Sam asked, his own eyes becoming troubled.

"Well, we are friends. And if I had known, I could have told the other lasses so they hopefully would have left you alone!"

She blinked back tears. Now why was she being so silly and crying over this secret Sam had kept to himself? She should be happy for him. Never mind it was not she…

"I did not feel the time was right. And when I thought of telling you, I hardly saw you about."

"I have been busy, 'tis all," Rosie stammered, feeling ashamed and guilty at seeing the hidden hurt in his own eyes.

"And suppose she rejects me. What then?" Sam asked quietly.

"She would not dare reject you," Rosie answered promptly.

She willed the tears not to fall. She had always known Sam would simply see her as his best friend's little sister. She had at times allowed herself to dream what it would be like to be Mrs. Gamgee, but she had dreamed in vain. She would be happy for him. She would learn to be satisfied with this special friendship they had. She would be content. No one would learn of her love for him. Unable to bear hearing who the fortunate girl was, she scrambled unceremoniously to her feet.

"It is getting late. I must go home."

"But…wait…Rosie!" Sam started to his feet, confused by Rosie's abrupt leaving. And was she _crying?_

"I promised Ma to help her cook tonight." She quickly put some distance between herself and the rising Sam by returning to the road. "Oh, I think you should tell the girl how you feel." She curtsied. "It was nice talking with you. Good-bye, Sam!" And with that said, she took off at a run, allowing the tears to flow as she quickly disappeared down the road.

Sam stared after Rosie, frozen by confusion and dismay. Slowly he turned back to the flowerbed. The flowers' heads drooped slightly; their colors suddenly seemed less bright, and their fragrance was not as sweet, saddened by the absence of the lass who had basked in their glory earlier. The hobbit's attention was drawn to the simbelmyne that lay forgotten on the soft grass. Slowly he picked it up.

"You have not allowed me to speak, Rosie," he claimed sadly. As he gazed at the lonely flower he cradled in his hands, a slow change came over him. The sorrow in his eyes was replaced with a strange, new light, and a wave of determination came over him. His shining eyes returned to gaze at the road down which Rosie had fled.

Soon, someday, somehow, he would make her listen and make her understand that _she_ was his choice. And, if she would have him, make her his wife.

THE END


End file.
